Return
by PrettyPrettyShinyShiny
Summary: Harry was imprisoned at the age of four- his parents not lifting a finger to help. Now, freed and with a distinctly child-like view. Quiet and mostly uncaring of those around him, Albus has taken over his guardianship. Umm...I'm sorry, but this is now up for ADOPTION...'m sorry...


**Disc.-** I. Do Not. Own. Harry Potter. So, um…Yeah. Because I'm an American teenage girl, and that kind of doesn't match an adult English woman.

**This Story…**- My darling has been in Azkaban for quite some time, ne (sorry, habit)? He has a little sister now, Holly. She's a baby/toddler. So, um…Some Lily-bashing and James-turns-crazy near the end. Slowly but surely sort of thing…

xxXxxXxxXxx

It was silent and oppressing in the little cell. Not that he hadn't gotten used to it, found comfort even, but it seemed even more so as he listened to the clacks and clang of new inmates being hauled in. He wondered if they were new, or just recaptured for a moment before deciding he didn't quite care enough to continue the line of thought. Nevertheless, he slunk to his bars. His cell was different than most others- as it was actually up in the top most corner of the courtyard, leaving him to the harsh winds that whipped at his still delicate flesh. He'd never understood that- maybe it was his magic, still trying to help despite being bound away. Though it did more harm than good- constantly being lashed by icy rain and unforgiving winds. Or well, his skin was able to handle it now- having grown accustomed to it. He no longer felt the sharp needles of hail or sleet. He pushed long, unruly windblown hair out of his face, deciding once more that the raging waters were much more worthy of speculation than men.

He'd been in this prison for as long as he could remember- or, no, the Dementors made sure he remembered farther back than that. More precisely, he was around four when they locked him up. Voldemort's disappearance when he was only a year and some months had left him and his parents in bliss (and the other three men- he couldn't quite recall their names, though to be fair, he didn't know what his parents looked or even sounded like). Though when he was caught talking to some garden snakes, _well_. That's when people began whispering that maybe Voldemort was simply hiding in the boy's (his, that is) body, biding his time or some such. Really, after so long, they should have proof otherwise but he long since accepted his life here. How would he survive outside anyhow? Sure, he was provided some education- but not nearly enough. And all the people…There would undoubtedly still be the whispers of him actually housing Voldemort- he knew how these things worked after staying in a place like this for a little over a decade. And Bran forbid that the Ministry admits its' wrong. He wasn't sure about other goverments, but Britain's was decidedly fickle and very, _very_ snobby- and bloody _arrogant_. Though he supposed he shouldn't make such broad generalizations. Nevertheless, he thought as he picked at his gray, dirty bare feet, he was quite comfortable.

XXX

There was a break in just last night, and now there were guards coming, having to get brooms to reach his cell. A small group was also huddled around the other guards, though he didn't recognize them as anyone who belonged on the island- they were clean and practically glowing with health, despite their solemn looks and a few stray cuts that were healing up. Which meant one of them had potions. He wondered, very briefly, if there was any poison. He didn't like the way one of the men were glaring at him. It made him want to gouge out those disgusting eyes. He reminded him of a rat. He _hated _rats. Killed them regularly in fact. Ate them sometimes, when the guards were too lazy to feed him within a week or two. A hand grabbing his arm made him snap his head towards him, eyes widening as he feebly tugged. The man pursed his lips impatiently, proceeding to easily drag his emaciated body out- or fling, as he was so light. In fact, he swung in the air by his arm for a few minutes, forty-some feet in the air. Not that it would do anything besides maybe break a bone. He'd know. Some of the guards liked playing with him. Of course, they never lasted too long, often shuffled to other parts of the prison and he would get an older pair who'd been there longer than he himself was. Coming back to the present as he felt his legs touch solid ground, he collapsed as soon as he was pushed away- and he _was_ pushed away.

His legs were weak; unaccustomed to standing or walking. The cramped little cell was more like a birdcage, and the most he could do was kneel or sit with his legs drawn up to his chest. But it designed like a birdcage. That was the theory behind it. They were experimenting with what prisoners would react to, from what he'd heard. That, and they'd bragged about it often enough as he spent over a third of his stay in this cage. As he was thinking (and staring blankly at the floor to do so), a man had gotten closer. His head snapped up as soon as he felt the man get into his personal space and he hunched, scurrying backwards a bit. Hard pale blue eyes from an aged face looked down at him harshly. He tensed, waiting to be hit. He knew looks like those (it was one of the reasons he was in his birdcage rather than with the other prisoners). Violence, too much on a weak body like his- that and when his magic burst out, lashing out at anyone near. He was more dangerous than he was _in_ danger, even with the suppressant cuffs he wore on wrists and ankles.

"Do you not _feed_ the boy?", the man's voice was tightly strained.

He blinked lethargically. That was strange; _most_ strange indeed. Unless they didn't want him dying on them yet. That would mean that they wanted something from him then. He frowned to himself as he heard the guard grumble something derogative under his breath.

"He has the rats,", the guard hissed after a short bit of conversation Harry seemed to miss.

"Rats? You mean to tell me, you leave him with rats that could be, and most probably _are_, diseased?", the amount of pure disgust for the man the elder's voice held almost made him smile (though he wasn't sure if he remembered how). It'd been a long time since anything interesting happened.

"I've seen the little cretin _eat_ them!", the man exploded, kicking harshly and making Harry wheeze and collapse again as he felt his brittle ribs snap as a steel-toed boot (mandatory of the workers here) made contact. While a few violent-feeling spells flew past him and at the man, Harry gingerly felt his ribs, wincing at the pain. A soft feeling washed over him and he looked up to see the old man's wand pointed at him. Harry regarded him silently, debating on whether or not it was worth the effort of becoming wary over. Before he could decide, another healing spell spilled over him, his ribs mending painfully though he made no show of it.

His eyes connected with slightly horrified blue ones, the same disgusting pair from earlier. He bared his teeth in a savage show of dislike and the man squeaked pathetically, whimpering as he hid behind another man. Harry sniffed dismissively, turning his attention back to the strange old man without so much as a look at the other man. His head cocked to the side. He seemed familiar; of that there was no question, but he couldn't quite-

"Dumbledore!", a woman shouted as she came upon the scene of a guard being accosted now by several Aurors (now that he saw the little crests on their robes, though he certainly didn't recognize them) and she dropped her papers, hurriedly running over.

Ah. That's why then. Albus Dumbledore. An infamous man here, revered on the outside. Harry decided then that that was quite enough for one day and proceeded to fall asleep, even as a startled shout with his name came across the air.

XXX

"Albus, why the _hell_ is **he** here?", was what he woke to. The man's voice was a growl and it reminded him of something. He sat up abruptly, feeling like he was sitting on something disgustingly _gushy_. He looked beneath him with a frown before splaying a bony hand against the soft covers. He winced, sliding off and wobbling before falling silently.

"He's awake!", a woman's voice, one he recognized as a Healer's distinct way of alerting someone. There was tense silence and he sat unmoving as moments ticked by. Then there was an impatient growl and the door burst open, smashing against the wall as a scowling man stormed in. Then the air paused.

"He's not here.", the man said blankly after a few more minutes.

"Of course he is, you dolt. He probably tried standing.", the woman huffed, bustling past him to his side of the bed. He looked up at the woman who eyed him critically. "Come on, then, up you go.", with that she dragged him up and he hung from her grip limply. However, even with him boxed in as it were, she couldn't quite drag him onto the bed. The _repulsively_ soft bed. She frowned at him irately, glaring with clinical doe-brown eyes. "Young man, you will get up on this bed immediately!", she commanded dangerously. He blinked at her lazily, ignoring said command and looking around him.

The room was expensive looking, with a great many trivial and useless trinkets. The floor was plush carpeting, the windows letting in soft afternoon light from between velvety red drapes, and the bed- the overtly large four-poster bed, with its matching drapes hitting the floor gracefully. The bookshelves, however, captured his attention. After spending some time scanning the wall-wide (and it was a very _long_ wall) bookshelf, he flipped his head back to stare upside down at the door and the man standing in the room. He had long black hair, fell in waves just beyond shoulders. He had the build of a swimmer, and he could see muscle definition beneath the tight black button down he had, along with the triangle of lightly tanned flesh from the open buttons at the top. Five 'o'clock shadow covered his jaw and very wary, distrusting smoky gray eyes (with a few hints of blue) were on him.

He turned to see the people milling about the door after the assessment, deeming the man in the room as not worth his time or thoughts. The man seemed to know it and tensed indignantly. He ignored it.

There were two other men, one of them the rat. Said rat had thick, curly blond hair and a rather round baby-face, though he looked rather thin. The other had amber-colored eyes and tawny hair, and he stood taller than rat-man, though his robes were a bit worn-looking. The man was wary of him, more cautious than his rash friend, he noted amusedly. Another man, who looked at him stoically through his clear hazel eyes were awash with roiling, conflicting emotions. His glasses reflected a bit of light, and his pitch-black hair was stylishly tousled, his robes fine as they hung on his muscular frame, angular jaw clenched tightly. One arm was firmly wrapped around a pretty, worried and stricken-looking woman with deep red hair that framed her face in lovely way, green eyes watching him. Her slim, slender frame was pressed into the hazel-eyed man's side quite snugly and her eyes were a beautiful shade of green.

After those four, he looked at the redheads, with their bright, fiery hair and numerous freckles. There were four of them, two of them obviously the parents by the mixture of features on the children. The woman was a bit on the plump side, blue eyes looking at him sorrowfully, hands clutched tightly under her bust, her husband having wrapped a long, gangly arm around her shoulders. He had hair a few shades more orange than the red of his wife, but they mixed nicely in their children, and his eyes were a kindly brown. The two children (who, mind you, weren't children but grown men) were a bit different. One was tall like his father, long hair captured in a ribbon, and his deep tan hid most of his freckles as deep blue eyes looked in at him curiously. The other was rather stout, closely shaved hair orange fuzz atop his head and he had ruddy cheeks, as though used to windy climates. His frame was packed with bulky muscle, and his forearm had a tattoo of a coiling dragon on it, sleeves rolled up. Brown eyes were showing a more detached interest.

Two Aurors stood near them, one extremely tall with dark skin and bald head, a glint of gold at his ears and very dark eyes. The girl, on the other hand, had a shock of bright bubblegum-pink hair, a choker around her neck and bright muggle clothes. Her eyes were a mirror-like black as her mouth was a tense line. Hanging behind them all, hiding in the shadows was a man with an emotionless face, ebony eyes boring into his as soon as their eyes met. His nose was hooked, looking partially because of genetics, partially from one too many broken noses, and his skin looked wan and pale. He was a looming figure, cloaked in black as he was.

And just in the door was the older man- Albus Dumbledore. Long white beard in a braid, his robes looking absolutely ridiculous with its pastel-purple shooting stars on a dark blue background. Though his eyes were calm as they regarded him, cool blue.

He blinked at him too before his eyes went over to the bookshelf once more.

"Albus, I insist you get rid of those _awful_ shackles,", the plump little woman was saying, wringing her hands restlessly. A few of the assorted group let out vehement denials, while some of the others murmured agreement- though those were few. Albus took no heed of the denials, instead sweeping in, past the now shocked man.

"Dumbledore, you can't possibly be serious! He's-", the handsome man spluttered in disbelief. The older man gave a him a cutting look.

"Do you believe I don't know what I'm doing?", he asked with deceptive lightness and heavy tension set itself in the room. The man reared back. Dumbledore turned back to the nurse (who had given up trying to put him in bed, instead holding him up). A wand slipped from his sleeve and a graceful arc later and he felt the cuffs clink, locks coming undone as they fell heavily to the floor, splintering the wood violently. Harry rubbed his wrists delicately, feeling light and exposed without them as magic surged through him. After so many years without the feeling, it was painful to feel it rip through him. He shut his eyes tightly, brow scrunching and soon trembling as he felt it rush through him, healing his insides, lessening the weakness of malnutrition and its effects.

At the same time, it also broke all the nice windows, shredded the sheets, demolished the desk in the far corner along with the bed frame and broke the entirety of the chandelier that hung above the room. Didn't touch the bookshelf though- all flying projectiles being halted and spinning in the air slowly (it made the glass look quite pretty). Thankfully enough, Dumbledore had set shields at the door, over the man and the boy and Mediwitch. It took a bit of time before it stopped and the teenager slumped boneless, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. As Dumbledore began to set things to right, Poppy was now finally able to situate him on the bed, pulling out her own wand to run statistics, tutting and frowning in disapproval, sometimes growing especially grave when she saw something. Shock held some still for few moments.

"What the bloody hell was that!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Black.", Albus said simplistically, still casually fixing things, "It was just reasserting itself in his body. After so many years, I imagine it was quite painful."

"Well, it took care of most of the malnutrition, and improperly set bones.", Poppy offered, "And the scarring seems to have healed a bit better.", she pulled up a slim leg, twisting it this way and that to examine the criss-cross of scars. They were pale, and only a few were of raised skin out of the numerous scars. "He still needs to be put onto potions though to be anywhere near a semblance of healthy- moderate or no."

"Oh, he needs to eat too; the poor dear is so _small_ and thin…"

"Of course, Molly.", Albus nodded placatingly. "Severus, would you mind giving Poppy a hand?"

At the words, the man slunk closer, out of the shadows and into the room, pulling out vials of potion all the while.

"Very good then. He needs to rest now, out, out we go.", he ushered the others out.

XXX

"Albus, why _is_ he here?", Remus asked the silent question as they all set in the dining room, the only place where everyone could fit comfortably, though there were empty chairs- only the absolute inner of the Order of the Phoenix were here. Albus didn't answer for a moment, sipping at his tea.

"Albus?", Lily prompted, holding James' hand tightly under the table.

"He is here,", the man looked up with piercing eyes, "Because Voldemort was able to break into the prison. Undoubtedly to free his followers. However, he had seen Harry.", he said, taking a lemon drop from a bowl- one of several set down the middle of the long table. "And his curiosity was piqued.", he looked to the candy thoughtfully. "Tell me, what do you think that man would do to Harry? He's very vulnerable. He knows not of the world outside- he will go to whomever offers him."

"Offers him what?"

"Well, that's hard to say. It could be anything. Though judging from the fact he seems particularly interested in books- I'd say knowledge. Free use of one of the largest libraries- something I have no doubt Voldemort could offer."

"Why would he want him? Doesn't he already-"

"No.", his voice was sharper than ever as he glared at Tonks, who winced guiltily. "When Harry had 'destroyed' Voldemort, when the Killing Curse rebounded- I suspect Voldemort unknowingly bestowed some of his traits into him- such as the Parseltongue.", people flinched at the word, more than they did at You-Know-Who's name. "It does not mean that Voldemort had access to him or his mind. Eleven years…", he shook his head, popping the candy into his mouth. "No, he wants Harry if only to hurt the Light side. Of proving that they imprisoned wrongly- imprisoned a young child as an adult would be tried.", he said, looking at the assembled group as they averted their gazes, except the sniffling Molly and Arthur, who was busy comforting his wife. "And then turning him against us. That power that came out? It was nothing. He could have leveled the entirety of the Potter grounds.", shocked gasps reached through the room.

"Albus, surely you're not going to-", Molly looked at him with wide eyes.

"Of course not. He will, however, have to learn Occlumency.", he said, folding his hands neatly on the table. "Now that Voldemort is back, I'm afraid he may have some sort of connection to Harry through the boy's scar."

"Can't we just heal it?", Tonks frowned, "There are plenty of-"

"Those are cosmetics for plain scars. Harry has a curse-scar, my dear.", Dumbledore interrupted, explaining to the young Auror gently. She deflated, hair flashing lilac.

"Curse scar?", Lily frowned, free hand clutching the gold heart-shaped locket around her neck. "You never told us about-"

"You would have alienated him.", Albus said easily, "Do not deny it. You would treat him differently- shelter him from the simplest of things. Had he grown like that- he would not be a happy child.", he left it at that.

"But if you knew that- couldn't it have helped to keep the poor boy out of that terrible place?", Molly asked him. Albus sighed, rubbing his temple as he contemplated his answer.

"I'd spoken privately with the Wizengamot about it before the trial. Despite my status, there were those who were…Bitter, about the whole deal."

"What? Bitter about…Little Harry?", Molly frowned, eyes questioning him.

"As you know, many people were lost during the war. Yet Harry survived. He survived the Killing Curse where so many people hadn't. There are people who ask why- _why_ did _this child_ live while their own families, children or friends died? They become embittered- angry.", he said carefully. "Making him suffer as they did- worse, makes them feel vindicated- a reason to throw him into Azkaban made them feel justified. So they took any reason- any at all. The fact that Parseltongue is considered a Dark trait only helped them."

"It wasn't my protection that kept Harry alive, is it?", Lily asked quietly into the following silence. Albus didn't reply to that.

XXX

"He seems partial to the upper corner of the library.", Severus reported dryly.

"Upper corner?", Remus asked with furrowed brow.

"He made a small room- one of the walls of it are purely metal bars. Though one side is open aside from guard rail two feet or so high. It's very small in regards to height, though he seems to have added tunnels into the walls and ceiling, going Merlin knows where."

"How did he get up there?", Tonks asked next, curiosity making her eyes a bright blue. Severus sent her a flat look.

"He floated.", and his voice was just as flat. At the enquiring look Kingsley sent him, he elaborated with an long-suffering sigh. "He jumped a bit, enough to be airborne, folding his legs up in sitting position and proceeded to _float_ his way up."

"Whoa! Bloody wicked!", Tonks grinned widely, her hair turning a shocking white.

"Has anyone seen Albus? He has Holly,", Lily popped her head in the door.

"Hm? Oh, I saw him heading towards the library.", Molly looked up from her knitting before holding up her project. "Do you suppose Harry would like blue?", she asked.

"Molly, are you making him a jumper?", Remus asked her then. She nodded, eyeing it critically. Lily guiltily looked away.

"Well, I…I need to go catch up to Albus.", she said quietly, leaving the room and shutting the door with a quiet click.

"…Mum.", Charlie spoke up from his spot sprawled in a comfortable chair.

"Yes Charlie?", she replied patiently.

"The kid's in the library isn't he? And Dumbledore is going there with Holly?"

"Mm-hmm,", she nodded "Why do you ask?", she looked up from her knitting once more to look at him expectedly.

"Oh, no reason.", he answered with amusement lacing his rough voice.

XXX

Lily slipped into the library, looking down at the ground as she thought, eyes anguished and drained until she heard Holly's giggle. The two year-old was her pride and joy- with hazel eyes (with a green tint that was beautiful) and black hair that had her near-straight style rather than James' mess of hair. She looked up, following the sound of her childish giggles through the rows of books until she came upon one of the corners where a small clearing that was deep into the extensive library, a desk and chair sat by a bay window with pillows and blanket that was heavenly for naps, and a few small curved velvet sofas (though she rarely came this far in the library, able to just ask one of the elves to retrieve a book for her). But it was what she saw that shocked her to her core, fear creeping in as she saw Holly in the arms of her son as he threw her up gently, suspending her in the air and making her laughs explode even more as she flew around, her brother directing her in the air. Albus was smiling as he watched the interaction, lounging with a cup of tea in his hand, resting on the saucer.

He noticed her then, and waved her over. The teen looked over sharply, taking a small step back as Holly floated back over into his arms protectively. She giggled again, reaching up to tug at his unruly black locks as he held her closely.

"Harry, this is Lily. Your mother.", the boy merely shifted Holly onto his hip at Albus' soft words. "Lily, Harry here was just getting to know his baby sister.", he smiled at the siblings. She nervously went to sit next to him, watching the two. Harry seemed less likely to play with her sitting there tensely.

He looked much different now that he was properly washed and out of his prison garb. His hair hadn't been cut yet and hung down to the middle of his back, thick and now that it wasn't tangles, she noticed the weight of it kept him looking rather like a girl than an urchin. Of course, his small stature and slim, limber body (potion regimes over the past few days saw that he fleshed out a bit- though not much, to Molly's dismay) didn't help, nor did his gentle yet sharp features or long lashes. He wore silk pajamas, wide-legged, and his shirt was also a bit too big for him- making him seem even smaller. He went barefoot though.

"Harry, my boy, why don't you show your sister your new room?", Lily looked at him confusedly and he looked up in the high corner of the room. She followed his gaze, paling as she saw what looked like a cage, not enough room stand in, but wide enough- she saw a thin mat in one of the corners, next to what seemed to be guard rails just over half-way up. By the time she went to open her mouth, Harry was already up in the air with his sister, hurriedly hiding and moving further into what she now saw were tunnels into the house. Albus turned to her.

"He's your son.", he said in a harsh whisper. "More than that, you let him be falsely imprisoned as an adult at only _four years of age."_, she flinched, clenching her fists on her knees. "The least, and I mean the absolute _least_ you could do is stop looking at him like he was about to murder someone and cackle about it!", he glared at her darkly, his usual twinkle gone and he looked quite frightening without it.

"He was in Azkaban.", she defended weakly, "Who knows what he learned there, he-"

"He _what_, Mrs. Potter? Have you seen the scars on his body? Do you think he happened to just fall, or decided to put them there _himself?_ Do you think he _wanted_ to grow within Azkaban's cold stone walls? What he knows, he now knows because his parents shucked him into Azkaban for something _he_ _could not_ _control_. He's gone through what he has because his parents were too afraid to even be _near_ him when he needed them most. And it is all on you and your husband now. So you listen to me, _little girl,_", he spat harshly and she flinched violently, feeling her eyes sting and water, "I am trying to keep him from running into the arms of the Dark Lord, and trying to keep him from breaking any more than he already has! I have spent so many years, _so many_, trying to get him out of there- and after you disinherited him, do you know who took up guardianship of him? It was _me_. Because _clearly_, you've demonstrated that you don't have the capacity to care for a child such as he, not now, not before, and I will not give you the chance in the future to _further_ damage him. The only reason I am keeping him here is to get to know his sister- he at least has that right.", he said bitterly before standing and banishing his saucer and tea. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must attend to something at Gringotts.", her head snapped up, tears streaming down her face as she looked at him in alarm, mouth opening to say something. He cut her off with a cold glare. "Your daughter, unlike you and your husband- and your _righteous_ friends- does not hold those same _expectations_ of him. She is happy with him and he immediately adored her, even before I told him it was his baby sister. However,", he said with distaste curling his lip beneath his mustache and beard, "For _your_ sake, Miffles is watching over them.", Miffles was Head-Elf at Potter mansion. "Good day."

After he gracefully glided out, she broke down in sobs, burying her face in her hands as she doubled over in her seat, loud hiccups sometimes making her gasp for breath.

XXX

James was in his office, one hand buried in his hair, the other holding firmly to his best bottle of Ogden's. "Fuck!", he swore loudly, throwing the bottle and watching it smash spectacularly against the wall. Peter cringed anxiously and Sirius stewed in his anger. A Family Tree had him and his happy family, his paternal side showing all the way to Godric Gryffindor. Down where his branch was, there was him, connected to Lily, and Holly stemming from them. Sirius was connected to him through a blue line, a soul-bound brother from the oath they took back in school. But there was a blank spot. It was obviously supposed to have a face and the information that typically was written under, but that looked blank too. It was where their son had been up until he was four.

Four. He'd sent a _four_ year-old to-

He shook his head quickly, summoning another bottle to guzzle down. Peter's sit untouched in his hands, and Sirius had empty bottles all around him, another near-empty one his his hand, dangling precariously. "Er…James?", Peter squeaked nervously. He glared at him, waving an impatient hand. "Don't you think you should reinstate him to the family?", he asked tentatively. Sirius whipped his head around to face him.

"Are you bloody bonkers? The kid's a psychopath!", he snapped out and Peter frowned this time.

"He was in Azkaban since he was four. Of course he's going to be a bit off. But I hardly think-"

"_Exactly_.", Sirius barked, "You hardly think- so stop trying to now. You'll hurt yourself.", now Peter was glaring back.

"What the hell's your problem, Black? You used to adore him, you know- and now you hate the mere mention of him! He never did nuffin' to you! Hell, he probably doesn't even _remember_ you after spending how many years on an island crawling with Dementors!"

James paled, choking a bit at that. Both looked to him. "Dementors- a four year-old- my _son_ around-", he slurred shakily, staring with wide unseeing eyes in front of him.

"Oh, so _now_ he's your son?", Peter asked menacingly. "He certainly hasn't been for the past _eleven years_. What changed James? Grow a heart suddenly? Maybe a conscience?", with that he stood and smashed his bottle on the ground. _"Eleven __**years**_ and you did nothing but sit here! I can't believe that I actually thought that child was evil! Well, I am going to go find him and- well, I'm not sure what I'll do, but anything I do will be better than all that _you've _done him!", with that last, courageous speech, he stomped out, slamming the door as he went. James and Sirius were silent.

XXX

"Harry! Harry, dear, where are you?", Molly called into the library. A head peeked out from behind a bookshelf and she smiled at him warmly. "Harry, love, I made you a sweater,", she held it up for him. It was dark blue, and an 'H' was knit in black. "I wasn't entirely sure what size to make it, but it will probably be a bit big for you.", she said as she examined him. He smiled, if hesitantly though it looked pained; as though he didn't quite remember how to smile.

She bustled over, gently grabbing him closer. He looked at her nervously. She smiled at him kindly, tugging his shirt off to tut at his scars before pulling the jumper on him. She smiled at him broadly.

"There we are, dear! Why don't you come down to the kitchen with me, hm?"

"Mrs. Weasley, you know he can't handle as much food as that which you would undoubtedly pile in front of him.", Severus swept towards them, handing the boy a vial as he came to a graceful stop beside them. Harry took it obediently, uncorking it with slim fingers to drink it immediately. The taste didn't bother him. "Now then, he and I have an appointment to attend to.", he said curtly, turning on heel and making his thick black robes billow behind him. Harry glanced at the little woman and hesitantly tugged on her blouse lightly before turning to catch up with the striding Potions' Master.

Molly smiled after them, feeling warmth spread through her.

xXx

After two hours of straight training, Severus called a House-Elf. "Chocolate.", he said curtly to the creature who bowed and popped away as Harry looked up at him. He raised a brow. "Hush, you little dunderhead. Consider it a…", he sneered, "Reward for your surprisingly studious development.", he said and turned away from him with a grunt when the pupils dilated as the elf popped back in, the aroma of sweet chocolate setting in the room.

"Tingla's not be sure what loomy man wants, so Tingla's bring lots."

"Very well, you _incompetent_ creature, now leave my sight.", Severus snapped. Harry was staring quite hungrily at the chocolate. "What are you waiting for, you cretin? Eat.", he waved a hand imperially. Harry delicately, hesitantly, plucked a bon-bon from the platter. His tongue peeked out to touch the outer level. His whole body shuddered as the heat from his tongue melted some of it. Harry pulled it back, looking at it in awe before carefully placing the entire thing on his tongue. He let out the first noise since his leaving his birdcage. A moan slipped from him as the taste burst on his tongue. There was no way he'd be able to eat rats again. Not after tasting this.

Severus was watching him with sudden intensity. He looked up at him shyly, still in his spot on the floor (which he found infinitely more comfortable than the padded chairs).

"You are far too pretty, you know.", he murmured. Harry tilted his head curiously. Severus responded by sighing. "How _ever_ can you be so alluring, yet so very clueless about it?", Severus knew he could say such things because the boy would never speak of it, nor find the will to remember it. A knock at the door almost startled him, and _did_ startle the boy who hunched a bit, grabbing the platter and darting away to hide under a desk. Severus sighed. The boy's aversion to others (because that's what it was; not _fear_, of all the silly things) was still very much present, he saw. He waved an arm to the door, which opened with nary a sound. Peter Pettigrew stood at the door. He looked nervous for a moment before visibly steeling himself.

"I want to talk to Harry. Or…", his brow crinkled confusedly, "Take him shopping? Would he like shopping? He does need things…Or maybe he'd want ice-cream? Has he ever _had_ ice-cream?", he muttered to himself and Severus raised a brow.

"And what, _Pettigrew_,", he spat, "Would suddenly interest you to attempt…_Comforting_ him?", he sneered darkly. Peter, to his surprise, glared back.

"Because- I believed them, and Harry isn't some evil- hateful- bitter, _thing!"_

"Correct.", Severus nodded, carefully remaining cool. "He's your bestfriend's wrongly imprisoned _and_ _disinherited_ son."

"No! _No_, he's just…Look, I've _baby-sat_ him, I know he's a sweetheart! He was an absolute _darling!_ And before they took him, he was still the _sweetest_ child I'd ever seen! _Nothing_ like we ever were! Innocent!", Peter panted after his passionate short, little outburst. Severus sneered at him again, but a small sound drew both their attention to the desk. Peter was moving before Severus even fully turned to the desk, peeking under. Bright green eyes watched him as he sucked on another bon-bon. Peter's mouth fell open for a moment, his own blue eyes widening almost comically.

"…He likes chocolate.", Severus said with disdain (for the man, not the boy). Peter was still though, watching with wide eyes as the pink tongue popped out to clean his chocolate-coated fingers.

"Harry,", he said hoarsely. "Oh, look at you. This is your first chocolate since you were a toddler, isn't it…", he said, getting misty-eyed at the mere thought of it. Then suddenly burst into tears, grabbing the boy and tightly clutching him to his chest. "Great Merlin, I was so stupid! This is all my fault! If I'd _never_ have told your parents about what happened in the garden that day-", he hiccupped, hugging him a bit tighter as Harry tried to reach for more chocolate, focusing all of his attention there instead of the crying ratman. Ratman was alright now, no longer had that look that made him want to murder him. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry!"

"I believe,", Severus put in dryly, "That he is more concerned with the confectionaries than with your blubbering.", he pointed as the boy tried a chocolate filled with caramel, startling him into a louder moan. Peter frowned at the looming man distrustfully, holding Harry closer still and tilting him away from the man. Severus looked at him with a sneer. "In case you've forgotten, that boy spends most of his time with me as it is. I'd hardly injure him."

xXx

Sirius glared at his hands, watching them clench and unclench uncontrollably. Harry was his godson. _His_ godson.

There was a reason Sirius got like he did when he was brought up. He wasn't angry at the boy. He was angry at himself, and the boy was a reminder why he was such a lowlife _scum_. His godson…He loved him. _Loves_ him. He would never truly…Hate or dislike or…_Harm_ the boy. But he'd…Let him down. _Failed_ in such a way that there was nothing he could possibly do to even _begin_ to fix it. It was too big for Uncle Paddy to take care of. And the thought Peter planted in his head- that Harry probably didn't even _remember_ him- was _agonizing_ to him. He took a shaky breath, trying and failing to keep his eyes from getting blurry. Crying, crying, crying. He was doing too much of it. Ever since he'd let him get taken away. He should've _done_ something! Hell, he could've grabbed the boy and ran!

He'd thought of many things he could've done over the years. So many, a _great_ many. Too many, too late. Always too late. He stood abruptly. He would find him. What then?

Eh…He'll wing it. Plans never really agree with him.

xXx

Harry had managed to escape the two men- they were too busy arguing to notice him sneaking away. It was when he was sneaking away though, that he bumped into someone. His arm was grabbed gently before he was able to fall to the floor though. It was the handsome man. He was looking at him nervously as he blinked up at him. Harry reached up abruptly, tugging a little on his long hair. He looked at him in shock and slight indignation at that. It was a…Humorous face, the one he made.

"Wavy.", he said simplistically. His wasn't. His was spiky. Or curly? Maybe the curls and length made it spiky? He wasn't sure. What an odd thing to think about. He cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Why?", he asked, brow furrowing as one of his larger hands gently covered his, pulling it to hold to his firm chest as he looked down at him in hesitant curiosity. "Because it is.", he answered simplistically. Ah…Reason enough for him. He nodded, instead focusing on where his hand was being cupped gently. He tapped at a bare bit of flesh, sending a pleasant spark through the older man, who jumped slightly. "Wh-what-"

"I'm feeling out your core.", he said as though it were the simplest thing on earth, sending another shiver-inducing jolt through him. "Does it hurt?", he asked, tapping again.

"A-ah…No, no, not hurt, it just…", he shuddered pleasantly, "Feels a little too good,", he murmured, more to himself as he shut his eyes, enjoying the tingle through him.

"Too…Good?", he asked him. With that in mind, he experimentally grabbed the man's other hand, pressing the larger fingers to the exposed bit of his neck the jumper the woman gave him showed. Sirius' eyes fluttered open as he felt a playful tug at his magic. It responded automatically, zinging into the boy. Who gasped, jolting and he watched as green eyes went wide as it buzzed through him. It was…"Your magic is tangy.", he blinked up at him. He blinked back, shocked.

"Yours feels…Like something lithe and silky…", he said, trying and struggling to find words. "Like something I want to hold, but slipping constantly…But I know it's…Soft? Embracing, sort of.", he frowned, looking down at the boy as he took another zap of his magic, jumping and emitting an adorable little squeak, making the boy send a thicker, more dense bit back and making Sirius gasp.

He recognized it now. _Arousal_. That's what his magic did. Or…Intoxicating, rather. He realized they were standing out in the hall, where anyone can walk in on them. Even if they weren't doing anything wrong…

"Let's…Let's go somewhere else,", he muttered, pulling the boy with him. The boy came easily. He wouldn't touch the boy like that, he just…Enjoyed the little zaps a little too much.

xXx

James narrowed his eyes at his bestfriend as he slunk away, innocent little Harry following trustingly. His grip on the corner of the wall tightened too much, breaking and chipping the wood.

xxXxxXxxXxx

Okay! So, that's that…Daddy getting a little protective at the end there…Could go insane and ah, kidnap him away. It's a possibility for later. :D


End file.
